


On Set

by fab_fan



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/F, Hollywood, Idiots in Love, Random & Short, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, raelle is a dumbass, scylla still loves her, what happens when you watch movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: Reaching Byron, his easy grin doing little to calm her burning rage, especially with the make-up painted across his face and neck to make him look dirty and ragged, she grit her teeth, “Where. Is. She?”“Scylla…”“No,” she bit out. “I don’t care what she told you to say. I don’t care what you did. I care that I am supposed to be shooting a very important scene right now, and my girlfriend has decided to blow herself up.”“Well...she didn’t exactly…”“Byron!”
Relationships: Abigail Bellweather & Raelle Collar, Abigail Bellweather & Raelle Collar & Scylla Ramshorn, Abigail Bellweather & Scylla Ramshorn, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 22
Kudos: 159





	On Set

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks!
> 
> Wanted to post something real quick since it's been a while. Here is my humble offering while I continue to work on other projects. Short and quick. A little snack of a fic, if anything. Written quickly, so you have been warned!

“Where is she?”

Scylla was furious.

No, scratch that.

She was livid.

Absolutely livid.

Marching across the pavement, the blacktop shimmering in the far too bright sunlight that was completely wrong for the scene they were meant to be shooting that day, a trace of darkening clouds in the sky threatening to open up later and completely drown out the entire production, the brunette was not in a good mood.

At all.

They were behind schedule.

The lead actress, Tally Craven, cast in her first leading part, her first anything outside of bit spots in toothpaste and fast food commercials, had flounced off in a cheerful bouncing ball of redheaded delight to scamper after the bird trainer, Gerit. 

She knew Anacostia was about to sweep down from on high to check in and report back to head of Windstrike Pictures, Sarah Alder, a tall imposing woman who ran her studio like it was back in the 1930’s when directors and actors were little more than slaves beholden to their studio masters, their contracts a binding accord sturdier and more unbreakable than chains, about why their promising young director was over budget and running out of time for the calendared release date. A first in her infant career with the studio. 

She’d heard it all.

A lot.

The whispers.

The rumors.

Was she in over her head?

The big budget and potential blockbuster status too much for her?

Could only make small indie films no one saw and only played at film festivals and random arthouse cinemas?

The whispers and rumors swirled like gusts of cold bitter wind across the sunbaked studio backlot, but Scylla ignored them. Anacostia hadn’t said a word to her about being fired, and that’s all she cared about. 

She focused on the script and her notes and trying to corral her leading lady into some semblance of an emotionally tortured by still vivaciously lovable and endearing witch hiding her identity as she traversed an ever increasingly chaotic and dreary world.

Well, she had only focused on her film.

Until now.

Reaching Byron, his easy grin doing little to calm her burning rage, especially with the make-up painted across his face and neck to make him look dirty and ragged, she grit her teeth, “Where. Is. She?”

“Scylla…”

“No,” she bit out. “I don’t care what she told you to say. I don’t care what you did. I care that I am supposed to be shooting a very important scene right now, and my girlfriend has decided to blow herself up.”

“Well...she didn’t exactly…”

“Byron!”

She did not need this right now.

Pressing the pads of her fingers to her aching brow, the headache a constant companion the past few days, she took a deep breath.

She was mad.

She was _terrified_.

Scared to the point it felt like an invisible hand was clutching at her throat, squeezing and choking until her lungs begged for air and her belly tumbled and twisted with panic.

Word had gotten to her via a note.

A damn note.

She was watching the screens as Tally overacted the scene so badly she was about to call cut when Glory Moffett snuck onto the set and cautiously held out a note to her with a troubled sympathetic gaze.

Glory Moffett.

Abigail Bellweather’s assistant director.

The same Abigail Bellweather directing at the other end of the lot.

Directing a big action war flick that Scylla wanted nothing to do with except for the fact her dumb potentially blown up girlfriend was the stunt coordinator on it. 

Goddess.

“Please,” she exhaled harshly, her hand trembling as she worked to not break down, “tell me she didn’t get herself killed.”

Byron lowered his mud stained hands, his voice soft, “She’s alive. She’ll be ok.”

Scylla inhaled deeply.

She was alive.

She would be ok.

The director closed her eyes, “What happened?”

“Blast went off too soon.”

She nodded. Of course it did. Letting her hand fall, she bit the inside of her cheek. Her eyes darted off to the side, away from his comforting gaze, “Why was she even in the scene?”

“Treefine backed out last minute. Too dangerous to let an extra do it. Rest of us were already in the scene. She volunteered.”

“Goddess damn it.” 

“Libba got to her quickly. Dragged her out before anything serious could happen.”

Libba Swythe. The special effects coordinator. The one who would have set up the explosion.

“ _Anything serious?_ ” Scylla huffed his words incredulously, “Did she go to the hospital?”

He just gave her a look.

It was Raelle Collar.

Of course she didn’t go to the hospital.

“I need to see her.” Scylla moved to step around him.

“Scylla…”

“I know.” she waved her hand at him as she sped away.

She didn’t blame him.

It wasn’t his fault Treefine quit or that her girlfriend would jump in. 

Damn it, Raelle.

“Scylla!” 

Glory’s voice broke through the worry nipping at her fingertips and heels, scrambling her mind while she fought to remain calm. Glancing to her side, she saw the younger woman putter up in a golf cart, “Get in. I’ll drive you. They had to take up all of that empty land way in the back. It's really far.”

Eyeing the cart, Scylla gave a quick nod and slipped into the seat beside her, papers in her back pocket crinkling as she sat down.

Goddess.

Raelle had to be ok.

She would be fine, she always was.

She swallowed thickly as Glory maneuvered the cart past a few office buildings.

Resting her hands on her thighs, Scylla took a deep silent breath. Then, another.

She needed to stay calm. 

She always could. No matter what happened.

She was calm when they couldn't get a permit to shoot in a town's square, but she snuck out and filmed the scene anyway.

She was calm when they ran out of money and she had to sell her car and scrounge up the last of her savings to finish her first film.

She was calm when a clumsy crew member dropped the only camera they had with them on a location shoot and broke the expensive piece of equipment.

She was calm.

Except when it came to a certain blonde with a taste for danger and a penchant for getting hurt.

She willed her mind to not jump to conclusions. Pushed away imagined visions with blood and knives and cold sterile hospital rooms.Didn’t allow herself to think about if she had said “I love you” to Raelle that day. Refused to do anything but sit there and count her breaths. Watch the buildings turn into scenery. A corner of a random large nameless city. A street in a small town lined with perfect picket fences and tiny facade homes. A small pond with the wreckage of a sunk boat at the edge of it.

She kept breathing.

And waiting.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the landscape turned dusty. Gravelly. She could smell smoke and the bitter scent of exploding gunpowder. Could taste the remnants of it on her lips.

Glory slowed down the cart.

Scylla was out and walking before Glory could open her mouth.

Seeing the set ahead of her, she quickened her pace.

It was large. 

An entire battlefield on the backlot. 

Hundreds of extras roamed about, some reading books, others chatting, all in battered uniforms with fake mud and blood smeared across their faces. Crew in t-shirts and shorts scurried about. If Scylla took a moment, she could appreciate the beauty of the scene. An old European village torn apart by war. The ghosts of once proud buildings reduced to rubble and skeletons of brick and mortar. The road was paved with dirt and death. 

The perfect place for the hero’s company to meet the enemy in a climactic battle. 

Pushing through a crowd of cheerful pretend soldiers talking animatedly about the last movie they auditioned for, Scylla’s eyes scanned the area. Tripped along the burnt out scorched buildings. The row of screens and empty director’s chair. The giant cameras. The lights. 

There.

Standing tall, hands on her hips and face fierce, Abigail Bellweather glaringly pointed and barked at two men dressed in black t-shirts and beige cargo shorts.

Scylla ran over to them, not caring how it looked to have a director from another film sprinting across a gigantic set, pages of script and notes sticking out of her back pocket and eyes still full of terror.

Abigail glanced over as she neared and straightened her posture, roughly shoo-ing the other two away, “Ramshorn.”

“How bad?” Byron might sugarcoat it, but Bellweather would never try to save her feelings.

If Raelle was in bad shape, she’d tell her. No pretense. No lies.

Abigail sighed and shook her head in frustration, “She’s no longer on fire.”

Scylla rocked back on her heels.

Raelle had been on fire.

On.

Fire.

Goddess.

“She’ll live. No idea how.” Abigail caught her eye, “Your girlfriend is an idiot shitbird who does the stupidest things I have ever seen. But, she’s lucky. Few scrapes and bruises, but that’s about it. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but Swythe reacted before anyone else and got her out of there.” She reached out and patted Scylla’s arm, “Come on. She’s over here making me wish I fired her.” 

Scylla let the other girl lead her to a hastily set up fold out table, a pile of prop guns and hand grenades scattered about on top.

And one frowning blonde perched in the middle, eyes rolling as the medic clicked on a flashlight and flashed it in her eyes.

“I’m not concussed.” Raelle grumpily snapped, “Might be blind now, though.” 

“You blew yourself up.” the medic shot back.

“I’m fine.” Raelle batted her hands away when she went to lift up her eyelid further, “My mom was a doctor. I’m a trained EMT. I’d know if I was dying.”

“Collar!” Abigail called out, “Shut up and let the medic look at you.”

“I told you I’m fine!” 

“Is that what you’re going to tell Scylla when I send you to the hospital because you wouldn’t let the medic check you over?”

“Don’t tell…” Raelle’s voice trailed off as she finally looked over and spotted the directors walking towards her. 

Her eyes widened.

Her mouth dropped open before morphing into an innocently cheerful grin, “Scylla! Hi!”

“Don’t.” Scylla glared at her.

Raelle looked bad.

Face a giant bruise, red and purple and black swirling across her normally charming features. Her lip was split, blood dried on the puffed up skin. Her hair was wild and mussed, a few bits of burnt char clinging to her smoke filled locks. Her uniform, black for the Camarilla enemy, was singed and torn. Blood coated one arm. 

“Goddess, I hope most of that is makeup.” Scylla sighed as she stepped up next to the medic. She nodded at her, “Make sure she isn’t hurt, please. She is going to let you check her over. Completely.” Scylla turned to look at Raelle, “Then, she is going home.”

“Scyl…” Raelle pushed herself to sit up straighter, wincing painfully as she did so.

“No, Raelle.” Scylla curled her hand into a fist at her side, anxiously flexing her fingers, “No. Not this time. We are not doing this again.”

Raelle’s shoulders deflated, and her grin melted away into a bittersweet frown. Her brows crinkled as the blue of her eyes darkened with memories of their arguments, “Scylla, it wasn’t like that.”

“Like what? You being reckless and getting yourself hurt? Again?” 

“I did what I was supposed to. The effect...”

“You weren’t supposed to be on film. You _only_ coordinate. Choreography. Do budgets. Paperwork. Supervise. That’s what you said. You were supposed to be behind the camera the entire time.” They had agreed. “You promised me after last time.”

Last time.

When somehow Raelle got stabbed in the chest by a real blade and almost bled out on set as the cameras rolled.

Scylla hadn’t even known until Raelle was already in surgery.

The director for that film hadn’t thought it important for her to know. 

Anacostia called her.

It was the worst phone call of Scylla’s life.

_The phone fumbled in her hand as she swiped to answer, the strap of her overstuffed bag sliding off her shoulder as she tried to pull it back up, “Anacostia, I told you the film is done. No more edits. Alder can take it or give it back and let me shop it around. Petra expressed interest.”_

_“Scylla.”_

_She froze._

_That was not a happy tone._

_It wasn’t a frustrated tone._

_It wasn’t exasperated or secretly laughing._

_It was serious._

_It flickered with something._

_Something that sent a chill down Scylla’s spine._

_“What happened?” Scylla asked._

_Her fingers clenched the phone tightly. Hard enough for the plastic to dig into her skin._

_“I was just notified.” There was a hint of anger, of sadness...of fear, “Raelle was hurt. She’s at St. Joseph’s. It’s bad.”_

_The bag slipped off her shoulder and crashed to the ground._

She thought Raelle was going to die before she even made it to the hospital.

Not even get to say goodbye to her.

See her one last time. Alive. Smiling at her. Eyes sparkling. 

The last thing she said to her was something forgettable. A quick hurried goodbye as they both ran off to their respective shoots.

Scylla couldn’t even remember if she had said “I love you” to her.

Anacostia had the footage destroyed before it could somehow get leaked.

Scylla never saw it.

She didn’t want to.

“You promised me you would not be anywhere near something risky.” Scylla continued.

Raelle curled her hands around the edge of the table, the tendons of her arms visibly strained from where the sleeves of her uniform jacket had been rolled up, “What was I supposed to do, Scyl? My person backed out. I knew what to do. No one else did. I knew the shot.” She clenched her jaw, “I know I promised, but this is my job. You knew that when you got together with me.” She exhaled loudly, exhaustively, “It was an accident. The machine went off early. Libba had it right. I had it right. Shit just happened.”

Scylla opened her mouth but closed it.

Her heart still hurt. 

Her mind still played images in her mind. Imagined shots of Raelle running. Getting too close to an explosive. Flying back in a burst of flames. Not getting up. Not moving. Not breathing.

Her hands shook as she tucked them into her pockets.

“I know.” the brunette finally whispered.

Raelle’s head popped up from where she had looked down at her lap, fingers fiddling with the ring on her index finger. The ring from her mama she’d forgotten to take off before filming.

Scylla slid over and sat down next to Raelle, not noticing as Abigail gestured for the medic to follow her and give them some space. She eased onto the table, the side of her palm resting next to Raelle’s thigh, “I know this is your job. It’s dangerous. Risky. I know you take every precaution...usually.” She earned a small scoff and smile from her girlfriend, “But...twice now I’ve been told you’ve been hurt. And, not just a small cut or someone mis-timing and punching you in the nose. You could have died, Raelle.”

“I didn’t.”

“This time.”

Raelle carefully set her hand on top of Scylla’s. Their fingers laced together, a perfect fit. “I’m not going to quit. You direct. I do the stunts. Alder makes us hate everything and Anacostia has to actually deal with trying to get us to finish a picture.” She squeezed lightly, “I promise I’m always going to be careful. This isn’t going to keep happening. Didn’t you hear? I signed up for a new project after this one. Supposedly some new hotshot director is going to finish this super dramatic character study piece and then film a spy thriller. I’m going to coordinate. Easy stuff. Some car chases. Fight scenes. Small stuff.” She nudged Scylla’s shoulder, “Spy movie, Scyl. Spies.”

Scylla rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the grin from forming, “You’re a dork.”

“And also your upcoming stunt coordinator.” 

Scylla turned her head and kissed her cheek, “Stop getting blown up, please. I’ve probably lost Tally for the day now because I had to find out if you were still alive.”

“Is she still chasing after that dude?”

“Young love.”

“Isn’t he getting married?”

“No idea. Maybe.” Scylla turned her hand, their palms connecting, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Raelle tilted her head, “Now, get off my set before Bells throws a fit. She already fired about half the crew.”

Scylla stood up, “See you at home?”

“I’m picking up takeout, right? Thai?”

“Sounds good.” She leaned over and pecked Raelle’s lips, “Don’t die, soldier. Need you to be a spy in a couple months.”

“Soldier. Spy. Do I get to be an astronaut, too?”

“Goddess, I hope not. I do not need the corny jokes or you in zero gravity.”

“Maybe I can snag a Star Wars film? A western? I could ride a horse.”

“Are you two done, yet? I still need to film this. It’s not like I’m spending hundreds of thousands of dollars right now.” Abigail shouted from a couple yards away.

Scylla kissed Raelle one last time and backed away, “Get out of that uniform, Raelle. Seriously. No more war films for you.”

“Thought I looked sexy in this.”

“No.”

“You could help me…”

“Collar!” Abigail’s voice boomed, “Quartermaine is calling me. You can explain to her about if you’re dead or not.” She waved her arm, “Where is Swythe? I can’t film when my special effects coordinator is blowing my stunt team up!”

Raelle jumped off the table, wobbling a second before righting herself and rolling her shoulders. She peeked at Scylla, “If I get fired, I’m blaming you.”

“Thought you already were on fire.”

“I just do stunts, why do I have to speak to Anacostia?”

“I don’t know, Rae. Maybe stop almost dying, and we can find out.” Scylla kissed her cheek and began to walk away as Raelle stepped toward Abigail.

“Scylla!”

The brunette turned to see the short skinny freckled redhead serving as her assistant jogging toward her, face as red as her hair. “What?”

The girl looked...terrible.

“No one can find Craven.”

Damn it.

“Has anyone seen Gerit?”

“His fiance showed up.”

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely hate it? Like it? Want me to get back to those other projects? Let me know! Comments are loved and adored, as are the people who leave them.
> 
> You know how this works. Cookie for reading. Cookie for reading plus a cookie for kudos. The entire package of cookies for commenting.


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